Nia

The air felt different that morning—lighter, almost too light. After weeks of hiding, running, and waking up to the smell of unfamiliar sheets in Lucas’s penthouse, I was back in my old bed, back in my own neighborhood, back to a life that felt like it belonged to someone else.

The sun was just breaking over the rooftops when I stepped out of the cab in front of campus. The tall gates of Eastwood College stood wide open, swallowing streams of students hurrying to class. Backpacks ...